The Shack
by ladybrit
Summary: Kitty and Matt get a short time away from dodge and its responsibilities.
1. Chapter 1

**The Shack**

_My version of what should have been aired instead of Matt's Love Story. Matt and Kitty deserved a better episode for them. I suggest something like this._

As told by Kitty

I always enjoy the time of year when winter turns into spring. Everything comes back to life so fresh and new.

Matt had gone to give evidence in a trial in Hays, and I had followed him about a week later by stage.  
We had a few days together there in Hays City enjoying the town and a few stolen moments.

We planned to return to Dodge by stage. The trip was not exactly as I planned. Matt finished up riding shotgun, and I was stuck inside with a preacher and a gambler.

We had got about half way back to Dodge when the skies got very dark and the brush and other debris started lifting off the ground and turning in the wind.

Matt yelled for everyone to get out of the stage and take cover, that something bad was about to happen. Quickly he had jumped down from the box, helped me down and told everyone to go find a hollow in the ground and cover up in it. Then he and the driver had unhitched the horses to give them the best chance of survival.

I felt a weight descend onto my back. I had found a small hollow in the landscape, and was lying face down in it. Matt landed on top of me shielding my body with his own. The driver and other two passengers were hopefully doing the same because in less than a minute there was a noise louder than six trains going by, wind grabbed at our bodies trying to tear them out of the ground. Matt hung on to me for what seemed like hours but was probably minutes. Slowly it subsided and I felt him go limp on top of me.

When the air had become quiet and still once more, great torrents of rain began to fall.

"Matt we have to get up from here or we're going to drown." I got no answer.

Between pushing and wriggling I managed to work my way free to find that my cowboy had protected me from a large tree limb that was now lying across his body, he had a gash on his head from something hitting him there, although I could not see anything else left around. It took all the strength I had to move that limb.

I walked around looking for the other two passengers and the driver. It was difficult to see much through the rain. I did manage to find the stagecoach about 50 feet from where it was last time I saw it. Of the other two passengers and the driver I could see no sign.

The rain was letting up. There was still some occasional thunder and lightning but that was much less now. I returned to see how Matt was doing. He was sitting up, but nursing his head in his hands. I saw a lot of blood on his shirt and figured that somehow he had a wound from all the flying debris that was spinning in the air for those few minutes.

I knelt down beside him.

"Matt, are you all right?"

"Huh, yeh I guess so." His reply seemed distant. I noticed that somehow his badge was missing too – not that he needed it right now, but we would have to look for it later, Matt was very protective of that star.

Something was strange about him. By now he should have been up and figuring out what to do, but he just sat there staring vaguely around.

"Hey Matt, it's me, Kitty," I said looking into his eyes, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, its just.. where are we? what is going on?"

"We got caught in one of those tornadoes, Matt. Don't you remember?"

He looked at me again questioningly.

"Can you stand up?" I asked him.  
Helping him some I got him on his feet.

I could see two of the horses from the stage sheltering in some scrub bush that had been left standing.

He seemed to be better now, looking around he saw the horses too.

He managed to bring them back, there was not much tack left on them, but he had rigged something.

I'm not sure if he knew where we were going but he helped me up on one of the horses and got on the other himself. Not much I could do but follow him.

We rode for about half an hour and I saw an old shack in the distance.

"Matt let's go see if we can get help there." I told him. He was willing enough to go along with that.

When we arrived at the shack it was easy to see that no one lived there now. I opened the front door. It was not too bad inside, but no one had been here in months. There was a small barn behind the shack and a corral that needed some of its fencing repaired. Several chickens were running around, looking at me like I had come to feed them.

"Come on Matt, this will be fine for a while."

There was a woodpile out back, not much left there but I was able to get a fire going. Matt sat there looking at me.

"Kitty, Kitty," he kept repeating like he was trying to get used to the word.

I got him out of his wet clothes and hung them with my outer garments to dry by the fire.

There was not much to eat but I did find some dried beans and the old pump out back seemed to be working fine.

I cleaned up the gash on his head as best I could. There was another on his back from where the tree landed on him.

"Matt can you go take care of the horses? There's not much to eat but I can fix us some beans."

That night we slept in the old bed in the back room. It was not very clean but reasonably comfortable.

By morning he seemed more himself.

Looking around he saw things that needed doing or fixing. Having found a few tools in the old barn he had fixed the corral, and one of the windows on the shack, which was falling off.

Several days passed. Matt seemed oblivious to the fact that he was a US Marshal, and never even spoke of Dodge.

It was like this had always been his life. He had found a stream not too far from the shack and caught some fish. He also set traps for some of the small game on the prairie.

This was a new Matt. No worries or obligations. He became very affectionate towards me. Sometimes bringing me wild flowers home from the walks he took to check his traps.

We held hands, kissed over the dinner table and at night slept in each other's arms. I knew I had to tell him about our real life, but I also remembered that if some one lost their memory like this you were not supposed to bring it back suddenly.

A couple of weeks in this idyllic state went by. I knew I needed to ride back out to the stage. I had a change of clothes out there and so did Matt, we sure could do with them.

Breakfast consisted of meat and some eggs from the chickens and a pot of coffee from some old beans that were left there on the shelf. He left shortly after to go see if the fish were biting.

I took one of the horses and rode back out to the stage. I saw no sign of the other occupants anywhere. I was just gathering up a few of our belongings when I saw something shiny, half buried in trail dust. Yes it was that badge. Against my better judgment I picked it up and put it in a pocket.

I was just about to leave when I heard some one approaching. At first I tried to remain hidden, then I saw a familiar old mule and a welcome scraggy faced man riding it.

"Festus, am I glad to see you?"

"Waal Miss Kitty," he looks around, "where's Mathew?"

I tell him briefly what has happened.

"How far are we from Dodge?"

"About half a days ride."

"I think you'd better get Doc, I'm not sure how to handle this."

I get back to the shack to find Matt cooking up some fish he had caught.

"I missed you Kitty, where were you my love?" He reached for me and gently kissed my lips.

I told him I rode out to the stage to pick up a change of clothes. He didn't ask anything further. Sadly, I knew that in a couple of days this interlude in our lives would be over.

That evening we sat on the small porch on two rocking chairs he had repaired and watched the sun set and the stars appear.

He held my hand and then as the night air grew colder he drew me to him.

"Kitty, I don't remember how you cam in to my life, but I hope you stay forever."

The night that followed was one I will never forget. No hurry or ears half listening for gun shots, just soft gentle hands. I knew it would not last but enjoyed it for the gift that had been given to both of us.

By midday the chores were over. Matt was on the porch trying to fix an old saddle he had found in the barn.

I heard people approaching and looked out the window to see two figures, one on a mule and one in a wagon. Matt was watching them too.

I kept looking as Doc got down and walked towards the porch. I watched as he reached for Matt's wrist. Matt looked at him. I could tell memory was coming back. He held his head a minute.

"Doc?" he said

"Yes its Doc."

Matt looked around at the place that had been our refuge for almost two weeks. I know that like me, he hated to see it evaporate like a dream. He reached up and touched his shirt where the badge should be. I went and got it and handed it to him.

"I found it half buried out by the stage coach." I told him

"Now you just sit there for a few minutes Matt," Doc told him. "Give your head time to adjust."

I made the last of the coffee, and we sat around for an hour or so. Doc kept watching Matt.

Eventually he deemed it safe for us to travel home, insisting that both Matt and I ride in the wagon with him.

For a while we sat close, he had his arm around my waist. Both of us looked back at the little shack. Those two weeks of love and gentleness would always remain in both our hearts.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Shack Part II

_This is about a year later. Just me trying to write something different. A story without fistfights, gunslingers or bank holdups._

It had been a tough spring. More than the usual number of cattle drives had come through Dodge that year and that brought more than the usual number of drovers to town. Now the relative peace of the occasional gunslinger or bank hold up had returned.

Matt was on his way back from Hays city. He had made a slight detour from the trail to introduce himself to a group of settlers who, he heard, had established a small homestead out this way. Having taken care of that, he was taking a different route to make the return trip to Dodge a little shorter, he topped a small rise and then in the distance saw the old shack.

He remembered something about the place, a few days he had spent there with Kitty. His memory of the time was hazy, but he could feel peace and contentment when he thought about it.

He turned the buckskin he was riding in the direction of the shabby building. He remembered that porch and the two rocking chairs he had repaired. They were still sitting there, unoccupied. He tied the horse to the rail in front of the place and went inside. It looked just the same as when he was last here, at least as far as his foggy memories could tell.

He looked at the old bed in the small back room. Again muddled memories came flooding back. Memories of soft, quiet peace and Kitty. Her smell, her touch and the patience she had for him.

Somehow he wanted to come back here again, to relive those visions he had of that gentle time.

He is thoughtful for the rest of the ride back to Dodge.

He had been gone almost two weeks.

Kitty Russell was standing behind the bar helping Clem restock the whisky bottles before the evening really got going. Looking up she sees that familiar head and shoulders standing there, looking over the doors. Stopping what she is doing she walks over to meet him.

They exchange familiar words, and she escorts him to the back table where they can enjoy a cool beer and the last few minutes of the quiet of afternoon before the evening begins in earnest.

"I had an idea this morning," he tells her after finishing that first beer. "Is there anyway you could get a few days away from this place?"  
Kitty is surprised, usually it is she who has to drag him away from this town and the responsibilities of his job.

"What's on your mind Cowboy?"

He sits back a little in his chair – turning so he is facing her. Clem brought him a second beer, which he is staring at.

After a moments silence he tells her how he came across the old shack out there on the prairie where they been holed up for those few peaceful days just over a year ago. Somehow he feels cheated that he does not have all those memories. He would like for them to take fishing poles and supplies and have some time together there. Some time that he could remember as well.

It is almost fall before he gets everything arranged, but somehow it comes together. He manages to get a deputy from Hays to come for a week to help Festus, and at first light one morning, with a wagon full of supplies and fishing poles, the Marshal and Kitty head north towards the old shack.

They get within sight of the place and Kitty remembers their last time here. She moves closer to the Marshal as they travel the last half-mile. He stops the wagon and helps her down.

They push the door open and go inside. Kitty is amazed. The place has been cleaned up. The wood box by the stove is full, and when she opens the door to the small bedroom, the bed is made with clean linens, soft pillows and a hand stitched quilt in soft greens and yellows. There are lacy flowing curtains at the window and a painted lamp by the bedside.

She looks at him. "I was wondering where you disappeared to last week," she said. "Festus said you had taken a couple of days to go fishing, but I thought it was odd that you never came back with anything."

"I wanted it to be nice when I brought you back here. I borrowed the quilt from Ma Smalley. I thought it would make the place look more like home."

They unload the supplies from the wagon and Matt takes care of the horse.

The early fall evening is warm and they walk arm in arm across the prairie. Eventually they come to the small stream Matt found on their previous visit. They sit watching the fading light play on the ripples, feeling comfortable in the sounds of nature that surround them.

She fingers his shirt. "Matt?" He is not wearing his badge.

He smiles at her, "This is our time Kitty. For a few days I am going to forget that piece of metal – just as I did before. I want us to find the same happiness we had then, even if it is only for a few days."

"How much do you remember of before?"

"Mostly just feeling softness, quiet, no worries, just you and me. Most of it is missing, Doc said I may never remember."

He takes her in his arms, and they sit there for a while, she huddled against his chest. Somehow the absence of that badge seems strange to her. It is something she has wanted out of the way for a long time. On the other hand, it does not seem quite right without it.

Eventually, after a long kiss, he helps her to her feet and they go back to their retreat, anticipating the few days of happiness that lie ahead.

The bedroom is cool. Now in the darker evenings of the season there is even a chill around them. The lacy curtains move gently as air moves in through cracks around the window and disturbs the soft fabric.

Matt goes through the home lighting lamps, and the fire in the hearth.

who she sees everyday. The man who hides his feelings, who is always watching, always alert, waiting for something to happen. Something that is his responsibility to deal with. That man is afraid or reluctant to show his feelings. Here he is different, he smiles and laughs. He holds her hand and kisses her lips just because she is there next to him and there is nothing to stop him. He is soft and gentle, a side she never sees in the daytime in Dodge.

Nothing fancy, just some stew that will be warm and comforting.

There is a lamp on the table and they sit eating in its yellow light. She looks up and he is smiling at her.

Supper is finished, they sit by the fire burning in the hearth, just talking and being close. It is still early, but daylight has gone and the flames are starting to fade. Gently he takes her in his arms and finds her soft lips.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you Kitty Russell?" he says in a soft voice she hardly ever hears. The excitement she always feels when he is close, runs through her body.

Their kiss deepens, as she feels him pull her closer to him. Suddenly she is totally in his arms and they are headed towards the bedroom that he took such care to prepare.

The bed is soft and cleaner than before. He pulls back the quilt and lays her on the sweet smelling sheets. He positions himself next to her and takes her in the crook of his arm. Quietly they lie there for several minutes, just enjoying the togetherness of it all.

He turns towards her and takes her chin in his hand. No words are needed. Just a kiss, a deep and loving kiss, exploring each other, wanting more. Then his weight on top of her. She is so used to him now that he is not heavy, just comforting and familiar. She wants to feel his skin against hers, but he is taking things slowly. He wants to savor every minute. There is no need to rush. Outside is quiet. There will be no gunshots. No commotion on Front Street that he has to rush off to break up. They are the only two people that matter.

"Relax Kitty," he murmurs, "It's just you and me. We have time to enjoy. No rush," he whispers in her ear. His tongue follows the sound and she feels his warm breath on her neck.

"Matt," – she whispers urgently

"Hush, take your time."

Gently he undoes the buttons of her blouse, she finds the fastenings on his shirt. Finally flesh against flesh.

With slow careful moves he orchestrates the love making, culminating in such passion that they both lie exhausted.

Their clothes rest next to the bed in a tumbled heap to give testament to the urgency of their need.

Sometime in the night he pulls the soft quilt around them both and holds his woman in his arms. Matt Dillon experiences pure happiness for one of the few times in his life. Knowing he will never remember the first time they were here, he feels that something precious was stolen from him. He knows now what he missed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter3

It is morning and the chill in the air is quickly replaced by heat from the sun as it casts a new day's light over the prairie.

Matt wakes early. No stress, no jumping up to deal with prisoners in the cells or rushing to leave Kitty's rooms before he will be spotted descending the stairs to the alley.

He lies there listening to her soft breath, hardly daring to move, not wanting to break the spell. Eventually he gets up and collects his clothes from the floor. He picks up Kitty's dress and lays it gently over a chair. She continues to sleep.

He heads out to the porch and reaching up stretches his whole body, appreciating the soft morning air.

He goes to feed and water the horse and turn him out into the small corral. Refilling the bucket again he carries it back to the kitchen. He is just about to head out to get some firewood when she appears at the bedroom door. Red hair unkempt from the night before and falling on her shoulders, no makeup on yet and just a delicate robe tied around her.

He goes over and gives her a gentle kiss.

"Just a thank you for last night," he says.

She smiles – it should be her thanking him.

There is pleasure in fixin breakfast if you are doing it together, if there is no rush, and no one coming to break the contentment. Household chores take on a new delight.

Breakfast is over and with a small picnic basket and fishing poles in hand they set out for the river.

The day is perfect. Kitty believes she could live this life forever and be perfectly happy. Being the realist that she is she knows that is not possible, but dreaming does no harm.

The catch is good, plenty for supper.

Kitty decides that tonight she will personally thank her big strong Marshal for all his effort in arranging this wonderful sojourn, and for the previous night's pleasures, which were more than she ever could have imagined.

That evening as the firelight begins to fade, she takes the big man gently by the hand.

"Tonight is for you," she tells him as she leads him to the small bedroom where the bed is already turned down and the lamp is as low as it will go.

Two more days pass in equal serenity. She had thought Matt would get restless, but no, he seems to enjoy this style of life. Just like before he sets traps and catches some small game for their evening meal.

This is a time without responsibilities. For her there are no ledgers to balance, no stock to refill behind the bar and no drunken cowboys to deal with in the evening. She put all those things from her mind. Sam was taking care of everything. Other than Doc he was the only person who knows she is spending a short vacation with the Marshal.

For Matt's part he had taken off his badge and left everything to Festus and the deputy.

They had promised each other that Dodge City was not even going to exist for the next few days.

()()()()()()

It is the day before they are supposed to leave. As usual Matt is up early, and when Kitty has put the coffee pot on the stove, she goes out to find him. Predictably he is in the small barn cleaning the stall after he has turned the horse out into the corral. It warms Kitty to see how he cares for the animal. Matt is such a gentle soul at heart. So different from the man the rest of Dodge sees. She wonders sometimes how, day in day out, he portrays that tough, hardened outer skin that the rest of the citizens see. Maybe Doc is the only other person who has seen the real Mathew Dillon.

He is cleaning the stall with a pitchfork when it catches in something metal. He bends down to check. There, buried in the dirt floor is a piece of metal. As he scrapes back the hay and manure it begins to take shape. Kitty comes closer

"What is it Matt?"

"Not sure, a metal box of some sort." He finds an old shovel in the corner of the barn and works at the packed soil, eventually managing to pull out a small metal box with a padlock on it.

The padlock is rusted and defies any effort to remove it, so taking it outside, he aims his colt and fires at it.

Carefully he opens the box to reveal a collection of objects and papers.

"We'll take it inside and go through them," he says.

He hurries to finish cleaning the stall and then they head back to the small shack.

Piece by piece they remove the contents of the rusty box and set them on the table.

Two letters opened and read many times, from a mother to her son. Kitty feels guilty reading something so personal. His name was Daniel Myers. From the address on the envelope it looks like he had been in state prison in Michigan at the time of writing. From the words it seemed that he was about to be released. The mother was begging her son not to come home. His father would kill him for bringing disgrace on the family. She missed him terribly and had arranged to have some money that she had managed to save, sent to him on the day of his release. The second of the pair was sent earlier, just after his conviction. Apparently he was to serve five years. There was no mention of his crime – only that the mother knew her son to be innocent. The date on the letter was 1851.

Carefully they work their way through the other things in the box.

There is a silk handkerchief with lace edges and embroidery in one corner. To kitty it seems vaguely familiar but she cannot place it.

Next there is a bill of sale for two horses and a wagon.

A knife. A watch chain that has a very unusual pattern to the links, instead of rounded they are flattened like small brass plates. No engraving, the metal is dulled now, but looks like it was polished and cared for at one time.

An old leather belt with a well-worn buckle, the leather was aged and cracked in parts, again at one time in its history it had been well cared for.

They were getting near the bottom of the box now. Matt lifts out some official looking papers. Opening them up he sees that they are release papers from the State Prison in Michigan saying that Daniel Myers served his 5 years for embezzlement, and is now a free man.

Not many things left here now. Kitty lifts out a small piece of faded pink paper, opening it up she finds it is a ticket for passage on a Mississippi river boat. The Mississippi Queen, the very name sends a shiver down her spine, but she tries not to show it.

At the very bottom of the rusted old box there is a blue ribbon tied around an old newspaper cutting and three unopened, unsent letters.

Kitty releases the neatly kept bundle from the ribbon. Matt is watching her as she carefully unfolds the cutting.

It is old and faded and bears the date 1866. Kitty looks hard at it. Her face pales. She raises a hand to her mouth and takes in a gasping breath.

"What is it?" asks Matt, suddenly concerned, "are you ok?"

At first she tries to hide the yellowed piece of paper. He stands there a minute watching, puzzled by the change that has come over her. Finally she hands it to him. At first he cannot see the reason for her reaction. In the foreground the Captain of the Mississippi Queen is standing proudly at the rail of the paddle steamer. Just to the left of him is the ships nameplate. The view extends back in to the saloon, and there at a table are 4 figures playing cards. The dealer is a beautiful young woman. A man standing behind her and to one side is watching her. He has a long cigar in his mouth. He is wearing a very distinctive watch chain, Kitty picks up the one from the table, and looks at it. It is identical.

At first Matt reads the headlines – something about this captain making a record-breaking number of trips up and down the Mississippi, from Memphis to New Orleans and back, apparently he was quite a famous man in his day.

He looks at the cutting more carefully, and then at her. In spite of the age and faded appearance of the picture, the woman is Kitty, no mistaking that beautiful face.

"That's you Kitty." A statement, not a question.

The handkerchief, she remembers now why it is familiar.

Somehow this picture troubles her, he can't imagine why. He seems to remember once, a comment that she worked in the casino of a riverboat for a time.

Matt picks up the letters and turns them over. Should they open them? They are addressed to "My Flower of the River."

Carefully he opens the first envelope and starts to read

They are love letters written to some long admired beauty.

The writer tells the woman that he has admired her looks from afar, and her manner and courtesies tell him that she is a woman of class. He is sad that he has a murky past and is not even worthy to look upon her. Further more he is old enough to be her father. She has graced him with a few smiles and his heart fluttered madly. He wants to talk with her but feels she is so high on a pedestal that he does not dare approach.

The second letter starts out the same way but tells how he managed to stand close to her and even summoned the courage to play at her table, but could not concentrate on the cards when she was sitting next to him.

The third letter is much more personal. It describes her red hair, the dress she was wearing in the casino that night. How he saved the last of his money so he could visit with her in her room. Half an hour was all he could afford. She was nice to him. Treated him with understanding when he was unable to enjoy her services. He was so overcome he had tried to leave her room long before his time was up, but she sat him down and talked to him in sweet and tender tones. She did not mock him for his shortcomings. He feels embarrassed that as he left he took the small handkerchief that was lying on her bed. He would lie in his cabin at night, holding it to his face and trying to imagine she was there.

He had booked a return passage to Memphis but when the boat left the dock and the casino opened she was not there. His heart was broken. He would never be the same again.

Kitty remembers the incident well. It was her last trip on the riverboat. Between the money she had earned working in her room and at card tables she had enough to leave the paddle steamer in New Orleans. All of this took place about two years before she finally arrived in Dodge.

Her hands are covering her face now. She is embarrassed to have Matt read the part about him in her room. She feels those large calloused hands on her shoulders.

"What is it Kitty?"

"I am ashamed that you should read all that Matt. It was a life I would rather not have had."

Matt holds her to him. Strong arms hold her tightly to his chest. He tilts her face up towards him and wipes her half expressed tears. She tries to look away, afraid he will no longer love and respect her after this revelation.

He takes her to sit on the small couch by the fire. With an arm around her shoulder he tells he knows about her past. It does not change how he feels about her. He accepts all that, it is part of who she is.

She snuggles into his shoulder.

"My past has a lot of murky details too Kitty. Some things I would rather forget, but they are there, I cannot deny them. They are what have made me who I am today. Things that you have gone through in the past are the same way Kitty. They have made you into the woman I am so in love with, my woman, the one I cannot live without. You are the one who gives me the strength to go on and survive from day to day. Please don't cry Kitty."

Before she can utter another sob, his warm lips are pressed against hers, and his arms are tight around her.

It is late afternoon. She can hear the prairie birds calling outside the window. She is on the soft bed with the sweet smelling sheets, covered with the handmade quilt in soft greens and yellows. Next to her lies the smiling face of the gentlest man in the world.

He lies there watching this beautiful red head. Her tears are gone now. He has taken them away in the best way he knows how. Contentment – that is one of the feelings he remembers from the time before and he feels it totally now.

He can't help but wonder how Daniel Myers finished up in this shack half a days ride from Dodge. Somehow he would like to know.

It is their last evening out here alone together. They walk down to the river to watch the light fade.

Both feel the sadness that leaving this idyllic setting will bring, but meantime they still have one more night of wonder ahead.

Next morning they tidy the little shack, maybe life will let them come back here again one day. The wagon is packed and by mid afternoon they head south towards Dodge.

A few miles short of town, Matt pulls the wagon off the trail a little and under the shade of some cottonwoods. Taking Kitty in his arms he kisses her gently on the lips. Then, releasing her, he reaches in his vest pocket and pulls out that badge. As he pins it in its rightful place on his shirt, Kitty watches as change comes over him. The tough exterior gradually returns to envelop him. As they pull into Dodge, dusk is setting in and by then it is Marshal Dillon sitting there beside her.

Epilogue

There is a young couple at the edge of town by the name of Myers. Other than that Matt does not know a lot about them. He asks Doc who knows everything about everyone for miles around.

The Physician tells him that they are a nice young couple, he has delivered 3 babies for them– oldest must be 11 or so.

It is towards evening when he ties his horse in front of the small house on the edge of town. It is a very neat and well kept home, with a front porch on which there are scattered children's toys. A young girl is playing with a toddler. She looks at him as he walks up. She is intimidated by his size and grabs the toddler and heads towards the front door.

He lifts his hat. "I'm Marshal Dillon is your Pa here?"

She disappears inside and in a few minutes a young man probably about thirty years old, comes to talk to him. He reaches out his hand, "I'm glad to see you Marshal, wont you come in?"  
Matt removes his hat and enters the house.

"Mrs. Myers," he acknowledges her as she is clearing the table from supper.

She offers him some pie – but he declines.

He looks at the young man, "What I really came here to ask you is if you are related to someone by the name of Daniel Myers?"

The man looked shocked for a minute.

"I haven't heard his name in a long time Marshal. He was my father's younger brother. I don't know much about him. My Pa hardly spoke of him. I never really knew why we came south from Michigan but my Pa wanted to move out here. For some reason his brother was here and he felt he should come keep an eye on him."

He picks up an old family picture with two young boys and an older couple.

"This was my Pa," he says pointing. "The other one is my uncle."

Matt looks at the old picture, the images are not very clear and there is really no information to be gained from it.

"Do you remember anything about him?"

"Not much, my Pa would ride out and visit with him sometimes, but there is only one time Uncle Daniel came into town here. It was after Pa died. He said he wanted to visit the Long Branch Saloon. I took him into town and stayed with him all evening. I don't visit saloons Marshal- don't have time really with work, home and the children. It was strange, my uncle just sat there all night watching a young saloon girl. He seemed to know her but didn't go talk to her or anything, just sat there all evening, watching. Next morning he went back out to his place – I have never been there but I think it is thirty of forty miles north of here. We never heard from him again. I can't tell you much more, Uncle Daniel never talked a lot, he never told us anything about himself. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."

Matt looks at him and then pushes the metal box across the table to him.

"I have every reason to believe that your uncle is dead. I came across the shack where he lived out there on the prairie. I was caught out there in a storm a while back. It was obvious that the place had not been lived in for a long time – although it is in pretty good shape if you ever want to go out there. Anyway I came across this old box in the barn. I think you are his only relative so I am handing it over to you. There is nothing of value in there but it might hold some interest for you."

The box is just as he had found it, except that the lock was gone and three letters and a small silk handkerchief are missing. He figured they were already in the hands of their rightful owner.

It is the small hours of the morning before he climbs the stairs to Kitty's rooms. It had been a busy night. He knocks softly on the door and enters. Kitty is sitting there brushing her hair. He moves up behind her and puts his arms around her. He looks at her reflection in the mirror. "How is my Flower of the River?" he asks innocently, thinking how apt the old man's description was.

"Matt!" she turns around and stares at him, a fire in her eyes – "don't you ever,.."

He cuts her off with a finger to her lips, "I wouldn't dare," he laughs, but I do think the name suits you, something so soft and beautiful."

She relents and smiles at him as he takes the brush from her hand.

END


End file.
